Daydream
by SilentBobina
Summary: Cassie copes with Chris' death in New York. A guest arrives but is he a phantom or a reality? A/U
1. Cassie

"Wow," She giggled in her usual mad way. She lay on the bed in the corner, and rocked herself. The fetal position made her feel small, safe, and powerful, almost as powerful as fasting. She drifted into sleep, floating up to Sid's side in her bed, her home with Chris. She watched herself dancing, shrouded in her sheet, gliding through the apartment. The hum of the fish tank's filter punctuated the silence. She heard a crash. She tried to shout but her voice was constricted. She could only float towards the disruption, through his door but she was already there, holding him. She watched as her other self stole the cry from her throat. Her muffled sobs slowly wafting towards her. They were unintelligible yet her mind whispered from behind her "Chris." All she could remember, a flash of blood across his face, her easy smile wrenching into a scream of horror. Blood, red, rushing before her eyes and the crash fell again.

Her eyes flicked open. In the black, she heard a pounding. Her head ballooned, stifled from beer and caffeine pills and no sleep. She opened her mouth to speak, expecting cushioned words to slur out. Instead, her sharp exclamation "Who's there?" assaulted her. Overwhelmed, she snapped her eyes shut prepared to return to her floating watery sanctuary until the reply bulleted itself through her skull.

"It's Sid!"

"Go away!" Cassie screamed, imagining his bellow making her own ears spurt with blood. "You're hurting me!" She moved to protect them, closing herself up tighter.

"No!" Sid protested. "I haven't gone and I won't!" The banging reverberated through her head but no blood dripped through her fingers. Surely, she thought, the blood would drip. She opened her eyes and the room took shape. Her room in New York, no blood here. She pursed her lips and rose, her body humming and pounding and crashing with every motion. She shook out her hands, stretched her legs, and sat up. She rubbed her temples as she rose to dull the ache of the violent vibrations running through her brain. Each footstep pounded a rhythm and she reached the door in four beats. She willed herself to close her eyes and float as she turned the knob. She felt her limbs relax and fall but instead of crashing she washed up like the ocean into Sid's arms. "Cass," he whispered. The hiss of her name lingered in her ear. His Scottish tones stilled her smile and her body. She felt his arm support her head as his hand gently whisked her hair to one side. He leaned down and clasped beneath her thighs and she was floating. In the air, his arms grew warmer and she nestled into his hold tighter. Finally, the blood stayed inside her head instead of pounding through her ears gushing across the bed.

Sid laid Cassie on the bed, snug in a corner. Few photo's still hung on the wall, sunspots filled their absence. The bright white of the wall matched Cassie's skin and her bones jutted out in sharp angles like the frames of her life, bright and blank like fresh paint. Sid sighed. Her broken bones were pale and hollowed out before him. He laid beside her, letting her cold seep into him. He watched as her naked, sunken side rose and fell above her waist. At times his heart would jump, he feared he was only imagining the slight rise and fall. He breathed deeply against her, crushing her bony hips against him hoping she could learn to follow his breath.

She awoke to a still world, no longer sharp with shadows and harsh light. Gray filled the room, diffused and comfortable. Clouds hung outside the large industrial windows and she fell flat against bed. Staring up at her outstretched hands splayed against the white ceiling, she noticed Sid's beanie. The hat lay dejected on the floor. She eyed it. Curiouser and curiouser! No blood, only soft cold light. No floating, only a familiar hat. Had she extracted it from her vision? Shuffle, shuffle. Her ears detected the scuttle of feet in the kitchen. Slight scraping metal, and then, the smell. It made her bubble, the smell of cheese and eggs and toast crisping. All things Chris would never have again. She heard his last laugh again, deep and warm. "No!" she screamed, closing her eyes.

"Cassie!" She heard Sid's lilting voice, the rise on the second syllable and she felt safe again.


	2. Sid

He glimpsed a flash of blonde flouncing down the sidewalk. A giddy laugh echoed in his ears. He turned to see a flowing skirt that disappeared through the door of a café. He hurried towards the window and jumped when a siren and car horns began to blare around him. "Watch it!" Schreeched a little old woman as he darted past her.

"Sorry, sorry" He mumbled.

"Learn to speak English!" She yelled over her shoulder.

Peeking through the window of the café, he searched the formica tables but saw no willowy blondes. Cautiously, he strode towards the counter. Dropping his large pack onto the floor, he hopped onto a high stool. He swiveled casually, looking around to be sure that Cassie wasn't there. "You gotta buy something kid," groused an oily-faced cook in a charcoal smeared apron. Sid reached down to grab his pack but it was gone. He rustled frantically through his pockets.

"Sorry, I haven't got any money but-"

"Then get lost!"

"But sir, I was wondering-" Sid Stuttered. "Have you seen-" The cook glowered, leaning over the counter. Sid shuffled towards the door with one last, sweeping, hopeful glance.

Sid wandered through the crowded streets, never straying far from the café. All day passersby jostled and pushed him as he stretched to examine the sea of pedestrians. A blonde glimpse here and there, but never her small, frail form. As night fell, Sid discovered a giant green expanse framed by a concrete gate topped with gold figures. The rolling greens reminded him of the hills outside Roundview. He saw a rumpled up butt on the path, flicked his lighter from his pocket, and tested it out. The rough taste of asphalt and skunk made him choke. He puffed the last drags off the spliff, spitting between hits to clear the gravel from his mouth. After stomping out the butt, Sid meandered down the path. He searched for a place to lay down but harried men covered all the benches. Finally, Sid found a bench only partially occupied by a curled up bum wrapped up in newspapers. Sid teetered on the edge of the bench and began to nod off. He abruptly awoke ass flat on the ground. The man's legs were splayed across the bench now. Sid slinked onto the now even tinier corner and was answered with an angry shout "Find your own bench bum! You lousy kid!" Sid jumped off the bench and stumbled blindly through the park. He sat at the trunk of a tree till morning, his sleep punctuated by joggers and loud disagreements between the homeless and drug addicts passing by.

After a cop jostled him threatening "move it along," he mumbled a sleepy apology and returned to the café. "You again," griped the oily cook. Sid looked around for an excuse, spotting a sign for employment in the window.

"Yeah I just came to-to-" He grabbed the sign and gestured, "Sign me up?" He scrunched his face with anxiety. The cook looked him up and down with hard eyes.

"Got experience?"

"No," admitted Sid dejectedly.

The cook considered for a minute "Well-just stay out of everyone's way as much as you can." He gestured to a dark-haired hostess, "Rosy here will show you the ropes."


End file.
